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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230357">Hail to the Pumpkin Song</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84'>treefrogie84</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort No Hurt, Halloween, M/M, Pre-Canon, Trick or Treating, remembering what you're fighting for</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:15:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't pay much attention to the calendar, and even if they did, Halloween doesn't mean much for most of the places they spend their time.<br/>But they're coming off a job in the States, collapsing in an exhausted heap only to be awakened by herds of small children demanding candy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hail to the Pumpkin Song</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So... this is two months late. But the end of October and all of November were disasters, so... have a late *very* American Halloween fic</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’ve owned this safehouse, under various names, for nearly fifty years now. The neighborhood has changed a lot in that time, but they’ve not been here to notice. They only have a safehouse in Kansas City because it’s equally convenient to most of the US and Canada— which means it’s equally inconvenient too. Case in point: a job in fucking <em>Wyoming </em>means they’ve all exhausted and have been on the road for hours by the time Andy parks the car on the street in front.</p>
<p>Joe grumbles as he shoulders open the front door, forcing open the damp swollen wood. “I hate humidity,” he mumbles to Nicky, carefully stepping over a trip wire and disengaging it. “All clear.”</p>
<p>The others file in after him, Booker shoving the door closed after they’re all inside.</p>
<p>Andy sags against one of the walls, exhaustion dragging at her. She’s still covered in blood— they all are— and looks like she just wants to collapse. Joe kinda wants to join her, but they have shit that needs to get taken care of first.</p>
<p>“I’ll take care of the water heater,” Nicky mumbles, dropping his bag on the floor of the living room and heading towards the back of the house. Booker nods and heads towards the kitchen which leaves the bedrooms to Andy and Joe.</p>
<p>“C’mon, Boss. Help me make up the beds.”</p>
<p>“Can’t I just sleep?” She whines, but follows him upstairs, grabbing plastic wrapped sets of sheets from the closet. “Couple of blankets, my pack… close enough.”</p>
<p>Joe raises an eyebrow. “If you really want. Although why you’d want the floor when a mattress is just a few minutes’ work away…”</p>
<p>“Bah.” Quickly, they set to work making the beds in the main bedroom. She may joke, but they’re all on edge and Joe wants everyone in the same room tonight. So does Andy, even if she won’t admit it.</p>
<p>That done, Andy peels off to shower and Joe heads downstairs. He’ll wait for hot water, thanks.</p>
<p>Book already has water on to boil when he reaches the kitchen and one of the terrible American convenience foods that are only good for straight calories. It’s garbage, but it’s garbage that will outlast the apocalypse.</p>
<p>Nicky has collapsed at the table, slumped over with his head lying on his arms, either dozing or right on the verge. Joe drags another chair around next to him, wrapping an arm around Nicky’s back and laying his own head on Nicky’s shoulder.</p>
<p>Booker’s eyes narrow so briefly that Joe decides he’s imagining it and then he’s dumping pasta into the boiling water, his back to them both.</p>
<p>When served, the pasta is a lurid orange that matches nothing in nature. It’s terrible and Joe loves it. It offends all the sensibilities of everyone at the table… and they fall on it like starving dogs.</p>
<p>Then they cycle through the shower and fall into bed, too tired to stay awake any longer even though the sun is barely down.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Joe is the one who braves the market the next day, giving in to Nicky’s pleading eyes and Booker’s hangover. He doesn’t mind really, even after centuries, it’s still an adventure to see what is available.</p>
<p>He grabs food for a few days, and, because they don’t have any baklava to placate Andy, a bag of mini-candy bars. Then he doubles back and picks up a second one, just in case.</p>
<p>(In case of what, he’s not sure, but Andy’s sweet tooth is legendary.)</p>
<p>Now that he’s awake, the decorations on the houses… don’t really make more sense, but they are at least visible. Ghosts made from bedsheets and gauze hang from porches and trees. Pumpkins have faces carved into them and set out on the steps. A few of the houses have small paper bags with faces on them lining the driveway or walk. It’s all very… American.</p>
<p>Joe laughs, shifting his grip on the groceries, and grinning at the weirdness.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They’re just sitting down to dinner when the doorbell rings. Joe’s confusion is echoed on the other’s faces as he pushes away from the table. Nicky passes him his pistol as he walks towards the door, while Andy and Booker spread out.</p>
<p>Holding the pistol low and out of sight, Joe cautiously opens the door.</p>
<p>A group of children grin up at him, chorusing “Trick or Treat!” They’re dressed in costumes— a ghost, a doll, a couple more he doesn’t recognize.</p>
<p>“Uh… yes.” He might remember something about this. “Un momento.” Dashing back to the kitchen, he grabs one of bags of candy he’d bought for Andy.</p>
<p>Andy sees what he’s doing and squawks, but even she won’t say no to giving children whatever they want.</p>
<p>“Apologies,” he pants out as the children hold up their plastic pails. Working quickly, he drops a piece into each pail, trying to make sure he gets everyone.</p>
<p>When he’s done, they all grin up at him again with a ragged “Thank you,” and then they march down the steps to the sidewalk and onto the neighbors. He’s about to retreat back into the kitchen when he spots another group of kids heading their way.</p>
<p>This is going to be happening all evening.</p>
<p>Sighing, he opens the door behind him. “It’s just kids. But can someone bring me dinner? This is going to take a while.”</p>
<p>A few minutes (and a group of kids) later, Nicky heaves the door open, Joe’s plate balanced on one hand with a colander under his arm.</p>
<p>“Thank you, love,” Joe murmurs in Arabic, quietly enough that he’s certain no one else will hear him.</p>
<p>Nicky nods, brushing a kiss to Joe’s cheek and trading dinner for the bag of candy. He dumps the candy into the colander and sits down on the stairs, settling against the porch rail. “Eat, I will take care of the children.”</p>
<p>Eventually, Andy and Booker come out too, dragging chairs with them and a bottle of bourbon. They joke and laugh— remembering to tell the dirty stories in French and Russian for a change— and are frequently interrupted by troops of kids come begging for candy.</p>
<p>It’s… fun, Joe thinks. A lighthearted evening after an exhausting job. A reminder of why they do this. Who they’ve been trying to protect for centuries. Glancing over at Nicky, he has the same soft smile on his face that his beloved always does when faced with children.</p>
<p>Throwing caution to the wind— the stream of kids has slowed and they’ll be gone before any casual bigotry can affect them— Joe pulls Nicky across the steps and between his legs, wrapping his arms around him. Burying his nose into the soft spot behind Nicky’s ear, Joe kisses his neck. “I love you. Happy Halloween.”</p>
<p>“Ti amo.” Turning his head slightly, Nicky kisses him firmly.</p>
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